


Counting Freckles Like Prayers

by inuyashamunkey



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon, Canon Death, Death, I'm Sorry, Jean's sad, M/M, Marco's been halved, Marco's mom - Freeform, Sad, i'M SAD, marco's dead, merry christmas?, my hand slipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inuyashamunkey/pseuds/inuyashamunkey
Summary: They chose Jean to tell Marco's mother.





	Counting Freckles Like Prayers

**Author's Note:**

> To begin, Merry Christmas.

When Jean fell for Marco, Jean fell _hard_

He fell in love with every freckle, individually.

He fell in love with every moment.

He fell in love with every grin.

Every word that came from Marco's supple lips were gospel and Jean held onto all of them.

He wanted them to spend their lives together, breathe their last breaths together when they were old and wrinkly. He wanted Marco to see snow like he'd always wanted. He wanted them to live _happily ever after_.

But when he saw the bloodied body of a half-eaten Survey Corps soldier it felt like evry breath had fled his lungs all at once. For a moment, he thought he would get his wish. He felt like his world had crashed around him and that he was going to die because-- _Marco-- **how could he live without Marco?**_

He was told to suck it up and put Marco body in the back with the rest. _With the rest_ as if his life was no more significant than any o the others they'd lost that night.

He was told...to tell Marco's mother because he was the closest to him. They said that she would _appreciate_ it coming from him because she must've known how much he loved Jean.

Somehow, Jean didn't think it would make things any better.

He couldn't find the courage to tell Marco's mother until nearly two weeks after it had happened. He told himself they deserved to know why they hadn't heard from him. Deserved to know why they would be invited to the annual Corps funeral. Family and officers attendance only.

He was dressed in his Corps uniform, a mockery more than anything, if you asked him, and his hands were shaking.

He took three deep breaths and then raised his fist that was clenched white up to the wooden door of the lovely little home Marco used to love.

When he finally managed to knock on the door and bring his fist to his heart, his other to his straight back he held his breath. He prayed she wouldn't be home. That he wouldn't have to tell her, as cruel as it was.

But when Marco's mother, just as beautiful as Jean remembered, opened the door with a delighted grin, his heart plummeted to his feet. _I can't do this_

"Oh, Jean! What a pleasant surprise!" She looked around for a moment, "Didn't Marco come with you?"

Another arrow to the heart, _I can't do this_.

"Uh-" Jean mumbled, sweat running down his temple.

"Oh, what are you so stiff for?" She stepped aside with a pleasant smile, "Come in."

Jean took another deep breath. _I can't do this_ "I'm going to have to decline, Ms.Bodt-"

"What? Because Marco's not with you? You're practically my son, too, come in." She said with a light teasing tone.

_But I have to_.

"Sure," He mumbled, stepping inside, but not taking a seat and staying in his form.

"Sit down, please, I'll go get us some-" she moved to go to the kitchen.

"Ms.Bodt. Please, sit down. I have some-" Jean shakily cleared his throat, "N-news about M-your son."

Ms.Bodt stopped, her arms slowly dropping to her sides. She looked up at him with big brown eyes that looked so much like Marco's, "This isn't a casual visit, then?"

Jean swallowed, "No, ma'am."

Ms.Bodt sank onto the sofa, his hands clutching each other as she looked at him anxiously. "Jean...what happened to my baby?"

Jean flinched.

"He..." Jean's throat closed. _Just another soldier. Just another soldier. Just another soldier._ "You're son-"

" _Marco_ , Jean, _what happened to Marco?_ " She corrected firmly, pleading.

Hesitantly, Jean met her eyes. " _Please._ " she whispered.

_He wasn't just another soldier_.

_My love, my life. My hope, my future. My sun, my moon. My freckled Jesus, my sweet martyr._

_My baby. My Marco._

_**He's dead, Jean** _

Jean's legs weren't able to hold him up anymore and he crumpled to the floor, sobs clawing their way out of his throat.

Ms.Bodt gasped, her hands coming to cover her mouth, "Jean..."

Tears filled her eyes as she got onto her knees in front of him, shaking his shoulders, 'Jean, what happened to Marco!"

Jean looked up at her as his tears dripped onto the floor, "A...titan...he..."

Ms.Bodt fell back, looking at him in horror.

"He's...he's...my baby is... _gone?_ " Her eyes were wide, dripping sadness as she stared down at her hands.

Jean clear his throat, "Ms.Bodt-"

She put her hand up, looking at him scornfully, "You promised you'd keep him safe."

_Now, Jean keep my boy safe, okay?_

_I will!_

_Promise?_

_Promise._

Another set of sobs racked his chest as he nodded, "I-" _I know_

"Out..." She whispered in a pained voice. She looked up at him furiously, brokenly, "You couldn't keep him safe now _get out of my home!_ "

The tears came faster as Jean scrambled to get up.

She pushed him out the door, "Don't come back. And don't' send that _damn_ invitation." She slammed it shut, but Jean could hear her sobs from the other side.

Jean slumped to the ground, flinging his arm over his eyes as he cried and cried, wishing that he had taken Marco's place.

He had no family.

No friends.

No home.

No Marco.

He should've been the one to go. Not Marco.

_Not my Freckles._

**Author's Note:**

> To end, _I'm so sorry_


End file.
